Reunited
by TimeSpace64
Summary: This story is a response a one-shot in Lisa Boon's 'We'll make up a story.' (Chapter 23: Camcorder) It's ten years after the one-shot, with Peter and Davy enjoying Christmas with their families in the wintery hills of Jackson. However, when two ominous figures appear in a blizzard, the world changes for the two remaining Monkees. Disclaimer: I do not own the Monkees.
1. Part 1- December 24th, 1976

_**So this story is a response to another one of Lisa Boon's one-shots in her collection called**_ **We'll make up a story.** ** _It is a response to story #23, titled 'Camcorder.' I highly recommend you go and read it. You'll probably cry. I did. It's not a lot of words, but it makes all the difference. Anyway, this is me coping with that one-shot. I hope you all enjoy! P.S. I don't own the Monkees and I don't own Clue._**

* * *

 **Part 1 ~ December 24th, 1976**

To all of their surprise, there was a blizzard outside. The two families sat inside Marcia Jones's parents' cottage, trying to keep themselves occupied. The fire roared in the fireplace, and the four adults sat across from one another at the table, playing a game of 'Clue.' The two girls, Sarah Jones and Hallie Tork, were both upstairs, playing with their dolls and playing dress up.

"Man, it's really snowin' out there, isn't it?" Peter pointed out, looking out the sliding glass door that was considered the back door.

"I'm glad I'm not out there," Jan Tork praised. "Honey, it's your turn."

"Right," Peter said, looking at his chart and cards. "Ah, I say it was Mr. Mustard in the billiard room with the rope." He looked at his wife who shook her head. However, Davy handed him a card. Peter took a look at it before handing it back to Davy and making marks on his chart.

"It's pretty though, isn't it?" Marica said, turning in her seat to look at the wild storm nature had given them. She then turned back in her chair. "I say it might be Professor Plum in the billiard room with the rope." This time Peter handed her a card.

"Yeah…" Davy said, getting lost in the swirling snowflakes and movement of the trees. "The girls don't know what they're missing. I'd say we could take them out there, but it's too cold. Didn't the thermometer say it was nearly 10 degrees out?"

"Yeah, it did," Jan said, "Your turn, Jones."

"Ah," Davy said. All of their pieces were in the billiard room. "I'd say it was Scarlet in the billiard room with the candlestick."

No one could disprove him. He nervously took the small envelope with the answers and opened it. He smiled when he saw that he was right. "Game over!" He showed the cards to the others. The women rolled their eyes and Peter sat there, confused.

"What?! I could have SWORN it was with the rope!" Peter said, rubbing his head.

"I guess you'll just have to learn how to pay attention," Davy laughed.

"Hey guys?" Jan said, stopping their bickering. "Was that there before?" They all looked towards the sliding door to see two dark shadows in the distance.

"No, no it was not," Peter said. They all stared at the figures, who suddenly collapsed. When they fell, Peter quickly looked at Davy. "Should we go help them?" Davy nodded and they both got up to get their winter gear on.

"Girls, get some soup ready for them or something, they might be in trouble," Davy said throwing on his big winter jacket. The girls nodded and made their way into the kitchen.

Davy and Peter, all decked out in giant winter coats and wool hats, looked at each other for a moment, making sure they wore everything. Peter flicked the ball on top of Davy's head for good luck, as was tradition, whether Davy liked it or not. He didn't. He scowled at Peter as the taller man opened the sliding door, shoving Davy out the door and following him out. He shut the door to prevent heat from escaping the house before venturing on. By this point, the snow had reached their calves, making it hard to walk in the snow. As quickly as they could, they marched out towards the figures who had fallen in the snow.

"My God…" Peter said once they made it to the two men. "They look awful! They're going to die out here!"

The bodies were nearly white with a coat of snow. They wore only jeans and light jackets, plus ratty old tennis shoes. The clothes they did wear practically hung off their bodies. Peter and Davy picked a man and picked them up, surprised at how light they were. They both were able to carry the men bridal-style. One thing was for sure, though, even through the immense cold, the healthy men could smell the rank odor that came from the men they were trying to save. Both men had large, tangled beards, complimented by longer-than-normal hair. Dirt and burn was obvious on their skin, and they looked like Grade-A hobos. Nevertheless, Davy and Peter felt obligated to help them. No one wants to die in the cold hell that is winter.

When they made it back to the house, Peter knocked on the sliding glass door with his body. Jan opened the door, letting the two men in. Once Davy was in, she shut and locked the glass door. Peter and Davy immediately made their way to the living room, where the fire was hotter than ever. Davy sat his man on one couch, while Peter sat his on the other.

"I wonder what they were doing out there," Davy said, backing up. "Who would be crazy enough to go wandering out here in this weather?"

"Maybe they didn't have a choice," Peter sighed. "Come on, let's go get them some blankets."

"Done and done," Marcia smiled, running down the stairs, her arms filled with blankets. "Got some for you two, as well."

"Thanks sweetie," Davy said, kissing her and taking the blankets. Peter took some from her arms and they began to wrap the men up in the blankets, hoping it would help them recover.

"Should we call an ambulance or something?" Jan asked from the stove.

"I don't know," Peter said as he and Davy sat down at the table, Marcia putting two mugs of coffee in front of them. "It's not dire, yet. I think we should refrain from that until we need to."

"I agree. There's something about those two, but I can't put my finger on it." Davy said, taking a sip.

Meanwhile, Sarah and Hallie had decided to come downstairs to bug their parents. They quietly tiptoed down the stairs. They were ready to head into the kitchen when they noticed the two bodies lying on the couch.

"Who are they?" Sarah asked Hallie.

"I don't know," Hallie replied quietly. "Let's go see."

"Okay," Sarah followed Hallie towards the men, both girls being careful. Sarah scrunched up her nose. "They smell!"

"Not so loud!" Hallie whispered. "We don't want to hurt their feelings!"

"Oh, right."

Suddenly, one of the men groaned. The girls froze, but watched intently as the man began to wake up. He gave a longer groan and rolled onto his side. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see that he was inside a building. He was even more surprised to see the two little girls watching him.

"Hi," The man said shyly, waving at the girls. "Where am I?"

"In my grandparent's cottage," Sarah said confidently. "I'm Sarah."

"I'm Hallie," Hallie said confidently as well. "What's your name?"

"My friend calls me George," the man smiled at the two little girls.

"George?!" The little girls asked. "What kind of name is that?"

George laughed. "It's a stupid name, I know, but it's the only name I know. If I had another I would happily take it."

"We can give you a new name!" Sarah chirped happily. "Daddy always tells stories about these two friends of his, you can have one of their names."

"You'll do that for me?" George asked, sitting up, but not letting go of the blanket wrapped around him. He was grateful to be warm again, even though he still felt ungodly cold.

"Of course, now let's see… Hallie, which one should we give him? Mike or Micky?"

"Don't give me Mike," George smiled. "That's my friend's name."

The trio was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Sarah's dad. "Sarah! Hallie! When did you two get down here?"

"A few minutes ago, we've been talking to George," Sarah said to her father. "Daddy, he wants a new name, so Hallie and I are going to give him a new name."

"I don't think that's how names work, honey," Davy said.

"I don't mind, really," George said, scratching his beard. "I really don't like my name. I'm lucky I even know my first name. My license was burned in this car accident that happened years ago, and the only evidence of my identity we could find was my license. It said my name was George, but I couldn't make out anything else."

"You were in a car accident?" Davy asked.

"Many years ago. My friend and I lost our memory. The only things we know about ourselves is what we were able to scavenge from the wreckage." George shivered at the sudden chill that came over him.

"Daddy, can Hallie and I give him a new name?" Sarah asked.

Davy rolled his eyes. "Sure, Sarah."

"Alright, Mr. George, your new name is Micky!" Sarah beamed.

"Micky?!" Davy choked.

"Yeah Uncle Davy, we named him after your friend you tell us stories about," Hallie explained. "George said we couldn't name him Mike because that's that guy's name." Hallie pointed at the other man for effect.

"I like it, thanks girls!" George laughed. "Micky. Sounds a lot better than George."

Davy paled, studying 'Micky.' "Ah, _Micky_ , do you know what your last name is?"

Micky shook his head. "Mike knows his, though. Luckily his license survived the accident."

"How long ago was this accident?" Davy asked, concerned about where this conversation was going.

"Ah… maybe ten years ago, now. Mike and I have been roaming around, living off what we can. We're originally from California, we think, or at least that is what Mike's license says."

"Do you remember anything from the accident?" Davy asked.

"Nope," Micky said plainly. "However, asking around, some think that if we see something familiar, our memory should come back."

"Excuse me," Jan said suddenly, appearing from the kitchen with a tray that had a bowl of soup on it. "Mr… uh,"

"Micky!" Hallie said happily.

"Mr. Micky," Jan said, "Are you hungry? I made some soup for you and your friend."

"Of course I'm hungry!" Micky said excitedly. "Mike and I haven't had a proper bite in forever."

Jan set the tray on Micky's lap and left. Davy sat down on the last available couch, where Sarah and Hallie happily joined him. Davy studied Micky's face over and over again. It couldn't be them, could it?

"What's your friend's name?" Davy asked, wrapping his arms around the girls.

"Robert Michael Nesmith," Micky said after swallowing some soup. "He likes to go by Mike, though."

"Alright, that's it," Davy said, standing up and scratching his shorter, yet more controlled beard. "I'm going to go have a shave then come back down here. PETER!"

"Daddy?! You're going to shave your beard and mustache?!" Sarah gasped. "Why?!"

Peter walked in from the kitchen, his coffee in his hands. "What is it Davy?"

"Come on, we're going to have a shave," Davy said, grabbing his arm and beginning his ascent up the stairs.

"I'm sorry?" Micky said, stopping the two men. "What's brought this on? Obviously your daughter doesn't want you to shave."

Davy turned around and looked Micky dead in the eye. It was definitely his eyes. He thought of the right words to say, but the inexpressible amount of grief and emotion building up inside him prevented Davy from speaking. He looked at Peter, teary-eyed. He then looked at the sleeping man on the other couch. With a shave and a haircut, that sure could be Mike. Davy took a deep breath, taking in all this information.

"Micky," Davy began. He could sense Peter go rigid. "Does the name Davy Jones mean anything to you?"

Micky thought about it for a second. "Isn't that a legend?"

Davy took another deep breath. It was going to take more than names to jog his memory. "What about Peter Tork, does that name mean anything to you?" Peter finally got it. He grabbed on to Davy's shoulder with a tight grip.

Micky thought about it again. "No, don't think so."

"Alright," Davy said. "Peter and I are going to go shave these beards off, then we'll ask you again. Groovy?"

"I don't understand," Micky said, concerned. Had this man just lost it? Davy and Peter ignored him, running upstairs.

Once in the bathroom, Peter grabbed Davy's shoulders. "That's Micky and Mike!"

"I know!" Davy whispered back.

"We found Micky and Mike!" Peter whispered excitedly.

"I know!" Davy whispered again.

"Why doesn't he recognize us?!" Peter asked.

"He said that he and Mike don't remember anything from before the accident. Everything they know about their past they had to get from the MonkeeMobile's wreckage. They've been living as hobos for the past ten years! I'm hoping something, anything about us will help them regain their memory."

"And that's why we're up here shaving, yeah?" Peter asked.

"Right," Davy said, handing Peter his razor. "Let's do this."

* * *

The other man began to groan. "Look Hallie! Mike's waking up!" Sarah said excitedly. Sarah jumped down from the couch and ran into the kitchen to tell her aunt that Mike was going to need some soup. Hallie jumped down as well, but planted herself right next to Mike. Mike groaned again and rolled over, slowly opening his eyes.

"AH!" Mike yelled when he saw the girl.

"AH!" Hallie screamed back, but then laughed. "This is fun!"

"What the-" Mike said, looking around. When he spotted Micky, he asked, "Where the hell are we?"

"Don't know," Micky said, "But they're taking care of us, so be nice!" Mike looked wide-eyed at the little girl, then at everything around them. "Little girl, where are we?"

"We're at my Aunt Marcia's cottage. Well, it's actually her dad's. My name is Hallie," Hallie held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Netmit."

"Nesmith," Mike instinctively corrected. "How do you know my name?"

"Micky told us!" Mike gave Micky a confused look concerning the new name.

"They gave me a new name," Micky explained. "Their fathers are crazy, though, so be careful around them."

"Yeah, I know they are," Hallie said innocently. "But that's why they're daddies."

Suddenly, Jan came in with another tray with soup. She smiled at the man who had regained consciousness. "Nice to see you awake, sir. My name's Jan Tork, care for some soup?" Mike graciously accepted the soup from the woman. As he began eat the soup, another woman came into the room, with another little girl in tow.

"See Mommy!" Sarah said excitedly.

"Hi," The woman said. "My name is Marcia, this is my daughter, Sarah."

"Mike Nesmith, ma'am." Mike introduced himself.

"Sarah, where's your father?" Jan asked.

"They're upstairs, shaving," Sarah said. "I don't know why, though. We have guests!"

"They're shaving?!" Jan and Marcia said together. They quickly ran upstairs together, leaving the girls with the two hobos.

"Davy! Peter!" Marcia yelled from the other side of the bathroom door. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Davy opened the door, his face half shaved. "Shaving and plotting, go away." He quickly shut the door.

"Davy, Peter. Open this door. Now," Jan threatened.

"No," Peter said from inside the bathroom. "We have this under control. Leave us be."

"Can you at least explain to your wives why you are doing this?" Marcia asked.

Davy opened the door again, looking at each wife in turn. "That's Mike and Micky down there. The Mike and Micky. Our old band mates, our old friends. They don't recognize us because they were in a car accident and have some form of amnesia. We plan on fixing that. That is why we are shaving." Davy slammed the door shut again.

Jan and Marcia rolled their eyes, but surrendered to their husbands' madness. They both walked downstairs, finding their daughters entertaining their guests with one of the stories Davy and Peter would tell the girls.

"And then Mike the Cobbler said, 'Oh man, isn't that the best girl I have ever saw!'' Sarah declared, slaughtering the line. "Then Micky the Innkeeper shoved a cloth in his mouth to shut him up. But anyway, so Princess Gwen came to the village, and Princess Gwen was a very mean woman-"

"Very mean," Hallie added.

"And her carriage got stuck in the mud. So Uncle Peter lied down in the mud so the princess could get out." Sarah continued.

Hallie cleared her throat. "Then the Princess said to Sir Harold, her boyfriend, 'YOU BETTER GET THIS CARRIAGE OUT OF THE MUD!' And she said it in this very man-like voice."

Sarah nodded in agreement. "And Sir Harold was like, 'Oh what a bummer.'"

Marcia interrupted the story. "Girls, how about you two go wash up for dinner, hm? Then after dinner we'll each open one present from under the tree."

"Okay!" The girls chirped, hopping from their spots and running to the kitchen to wash their hands.

"What imaginative girls you have," Mike said to the women.

"They get it from their fathers, really," Jan said. "So where are the two of you from?"

Mike shrugged. "Not quite sure. California, I think, according to my driver's license."

"We were in a car accident a long time ago," Micky explained. "That's as far back as we remember. We remember waking up next to this wrecked car, and we gathered as much as we could from it and left. So we're sorry if we can't answer your questions very well."

"It's okay," Marcia said, raising an eyebrow to Jan. "What have you two been doing since the accident?"

"Wandering," Mike said. "We survive off what we can. I get menial jobs here and there, just so we don't have to eat garbage at night, but it's never enough for us to stay in one spot for long."

"How did you two end up here, in Jackson?" Jan asked.

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said, wandering. We were caught in that storm out there, and we thought for sure we were going to die."

"If it wasn't for you guys, we would be," Micky added. "You guys saved our lives."

"Our husbands did, really," Marcia said. "They were the ones who went out and got the two of you," Marcia gave a stifled laugh. "You know, it's funny. Peter and Davy think you two are their old roommates."

"Roommates?" Mike asked, taking another spoonful of soup.

"Yeah," Jan added. "Before we met them, they were in a band called the Monkees. There were four of them. Two of them went to Texas to visit family and never returned."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Micky said, setting his empty bowl on the coffee table in front of them. "It must be difficult for them to deal a loss like that. The girls said that they tell stories about them?"

"Of course, the Monkees are their favorite bedtime story," Marcia said. "I think, hands down, Micky is their favorite."

"Micky is everyone's favorite, Marcia." Jan said.

"Then I'm honored that the girls named me after such a loved character of theirs." Micky smiled his typical, goofy smile.

As if a stampede of elephants had arrived, Davy and Peter came trampling down the stairs, clean-shaven and eager to talk to Mike and Micky. They both nearly tripped when coming off the final step, but regained their balance by holding onto the couch that Mike was laying on. All four adults stared at them as if they were some freak show. Peter gave the group a nervous and embarrassed smile, whereas Davy stood and brushed himself off.

"How about now?" Davy asked the men. "Do we look familiar at all?" The two men stared at the other two with blank expressions. "Obviously not."

"Maybe we should sing something, Davy," Peter suggested. Peter walked back upstairs to grab his guitar. He came back down, tuning his guitar. "Which one do you think we should do?"

Davy massaged his wrists, trying to think of one. "What do you think? Should we do one of mine, or one of theirs?"

"Theirs. Maybe Clarksville?"

"Sure!" Davy plopped down next to Mike, only to get a whiff of the awful body odor and scooch a little farther away from the smelly hobo.

During 'Last Train to Clarksville,' Sarah and Hallie re-entered, sitting next to their mothers while their fathers performed the timeless classic. When they were done, Davy and Peter looked on eagerly for Micky and Mike to remember the song. The two men clapped, happy to hear the song.

"Wow, that was great!" Micky smiled. "I wish I could sing as good as you, do, Mr… I'm sorry, I don't think you two have been properly introduced."

"You could sing as well as I could?!" Davy said, almost outraged. He stood and marched over to the cocooned man, getting in his face. "That's your song, Micky! God! What is it going to take?!"

"Davy, dear, calm down," Marcia said, getting up and pulling Davy away. "Maybe start from the beginning and explain why you two are acting like mad men." Davy took a deep breath. "Now Jan and I are going to take the girls into the kitchen so they can help us set up the table for dinner. Mr. Nesmith, Micky, are you two still hungry?"

"Yes ma'am," Micky replied, trying to avoid eye contact with the crazed men.

"The we'll set a place for you two as well. Come on girls," Marcia said. Marcia and Jan took the girls into the kitchen, leaving the four old Monkees alone.

"Alright, from the beginning then," Peter mused, sitting down on the couch that the women had just vacated. "My name is Peter Tork."

"My name is Davy Jones," Davy added. "And we swear that you two are our old bandmates."

"Are we?" Mike asked.

"Yes! Yes you are," Davy gasped. "We all lived in this little beach house out on the coast in Malibu, California. We were a struggling rock band, starving everyday because no one would hire us."

"We had this mean landlord named Mr. Babbitt and all these nice neighbors. We also made fantastic music," Peter said. "After you guys disappeared, I kept all your music, Mike, and we made thousands off it."

"Yeah, Peter and I were able to start a record business and helped your music become known by making that a requirement in the record deal." Davy continued. "We did it all in honor of the two of you. George Michael Dolenz and Robert Michael Nesmith, the lost Monkees. We even have a plaque in our lobby that says the place is dedicated to you two."

"We used to go on crazy adventures," Peter added. "Like one time, we were hired by the CIA to catch some Russian spies."

"And another time we were hired to be extras in a beach movie, and we ended up making the lead star quit, so you guys made me audition for the lead role, which drove me to a state of high ego and Catalina-Disease."

"Catalina-Disease?" Micky asked.

"Yeah, you made up that name," Davy said.

"I'm sorry, guys," Mike said, shaking his head. "None of this is ringing a bell. I wish it did."

Davy groaned, throwing his head into his hands. "What must we do to get you two to remember us?"

Suddenly, there was a faint siren piercing the agonizing air of the room. Davy looked up from his hands, concerned. "What the hell?"

"Davy, that's the storm warning," Peter said. "Nothing to worry about."

Suddenly, there was a huge banging coming from outside. Davy and Peter both sprang up, going towards the noise. It sounded like it was coming from the backyard. They looked out the window to see one of the larger trees tipping towards the cottage.

"Uh oh," Davy muttered.

"Everyone get into the cars!" Peter yelled, grabbing the wives and pushing them out of the kitchen. Davy scooped up the girls into his arms as well. "That tree is going to fall!"

"What?!" Mike asked, standing as the two families rushed to the front door and out of the house. Micky and Mike didn't leave the house.

Peter quickly popped his head into the house. "What are you two doing standing there?! Get out of here!" Mike and Micky looked at each other, and without a second thought, they ran towards Peter, out the doors.

The wind was hell. It was difficult to walk in the snow and the wind. They could hardly see the black and blue cars sitting in the driveway. They could hardly see Davy and Peter frantically brushing off all the snow, even though the storm just replaced the snow seconds later. The wives and children were in the running cars. Mike and Micky began helping the two men brush off their cars. After a few minutes, and the cracking of the tree increasing, Davy declared that they had done enough, it was time to get out of there. They all piled into cars, but when they tried to move, the snow prevented them from doing so. That's when Mike and Micky got a clever, but ungodly stupid idea.

Without permission, they both got out of the car and began pushing on the cars. Davy and Peter got out as well, asking their wives to take the wheel. They did so, and soon Mike and Micky were pushing on Peter's car, and Davy and Peter were pushing on Davy's car. After fruitless minutes of work, the cars finally stormed out of the driveway and onto the road.

"Guys, hurry!" Marcia screamed from the car. Davy and Peter ran towards the cars, but stopped when they noticed Mike and Micky were not. The two men were sitting in the snow, struggling to breathe. They were not strong enough to have done that.

"Micky, Mike, come on!" Davy yelled, trudging through the snow with Peter to their old friends.

Mike shook his head frantically. "We… We can't." Micky even flopped into the snow. "Go on without us…" Mike smiled up at Peter and Davy. "Go save your families, guys."

"You guys are our family," Peter explained. "We're not leaving without you, come on!" Peter grabbed onto Micky's arm and pulled him up. Micky was already unconscious.

Mike suddenly laughed. "I know we are, but you have to go. That tree is going to crash any minute."

Davy had already begun dragging Micky through the snow. Peter began to do the same with Mike, despite his protests. However, they were too late. The tree fell, destroying the house, causing parts of the house to bury the four men in the wreckage.

"David!" Marcia wailed, trying to make her way over to the collapsed cabin.

"Marcia!" Jan yelled pulling her back.

"Jan, let me go!" Marcia yelled tugging her arm out of Jan's grip. She lost her balance and fell into the deepening snow. Jan wadded over and helped her up.

"Marcia, we can't… We have the children to think about, we need to go. We'll drive to the nearest house and call 9-1-1. There's nothing we can do," Jan tried to persuade her.

Marcia took a deep breath and cried, "We can't just leave them here!"

"Marcia, we need to go!" Jan pulled her towards Davy's car and shoved her in the driver's seat. She slammed the door shut and got into her husband's. She knew very well Marcia never handled situations well. Jan pulled out and began to drive away, Marcia following her with both girls in her car. As soon as they reached the nearest cabin, Jan got out and knocked on the door, begging to use their phone. After explaining what had happened, the couple who lived in the cabin let her in to use the phone.

The couple who lived in the cabin, Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy, allowed the children to stay with them while Jan and Marica took Davy's car back to their cabin to wait for the ambulance and police. When they got there, both women got out and began to try and dig through the rubble, but it was too heavy for either of them. So they sat in the car, waiting. Soon the authorities arrived and dug the four men out, taking them to the hospital for treatment.


	2. Part 2- December 25th, 1976

**Part 2 ~ December 25th, 1976**

Davy could feel a fire brush over his whole body. He was cold, but the heat burned his skin. Slowly he opened his eyes, finding a white ceiling to welcome him. He was first aware of the brutal wind whistling past his window. Next, the darkness of dawn lighting up his room. He tried to sit up, but collapsed prematurely. Where was he? His mind raced back to what he last remembered. He tried to sit up again, panicked, but collapsed again. That's when a nurse came into his room.

"Oh, you're awake," She said suddenly. "Would you like the light on?"

Davy shook his head. "Where's Peter?"

"He's in the room right next door, Mr. Jones," The nurse said, walking over and beginning to take note of his vitals. He surrendered himself to her and she did her job. However, he continued to ask questions.

"What about Micky and Mike?" He asked.

"Who?"

"The, the other two men," Davy tried to explain.

"You mean Mr. Nesmith and Mr. Dolenz?"

"Yes, them, where are they? Are they okay?" Davy asked desperately.

The nurse didn't answer for a moment, writing down some information on his clipboard. He repeated his question. "Where are they? Are they okay?"

"Both of them are in very rough condition, Mr. Jones," The nurse tried, finishing up her work.

"But are they _okay_?" Davy asked desperately.

"They're _alive_ , if that is what you want to hear," The nurse said coldly.

Davy took in a deep breath. Mike and Micky were alive. He began to space out, trying to revision everything that had happened last. He remembered carrying them into the cabin. He remembered shaving in the bathroom with Peter. He remembered the realization that they had saved Micky and Mike. However, the most important thing he remembered was the last thing Mike said to them. " _I know we are, but you have to go._ " Mike knew. Mike knew who they were. Was Mike just playing them? Faking his ignorance? Davy needed to find out what the truth was.

"I need to see them," Davy said finally.

"You can see your wife and daughter," The nurse said, "But I'm afraid you can't see the other patients until you're well enough to move around on your own."

"But-" Davy tried, but the nurse left, almost slamming the door behind her. Minutes later, there was a knock on the door and it opened again, revealing Marcia and Sarah.

"Daddy!" Sarah exclaimed, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

Both Davy and Marcia laughed at their little girl as she tried to hop onto his bed, but failed. Marcia picked her up, sitting herself down on the edge of the bed and keeping Sarah in her lap. "Daddy! You're not dead!"

"Of course I'm not, Sarah. I wouldn't want to miss watching you grow up, now would I?" He laughed, ruffling her wild, brown hair. "Have you visited with Uncle Peter yet?"

Sarah nodded quickly. "He woke up before you did. He said it was because he's taller than you therefore you took on more injuries."

"That's not fair!" Davy exclaimed in a mock tone. Marcia laughed, smiling. Davy smiled back, then addressed his attention to Marcia. "What about Mike and Micky?"

"They're in rough shape, honey," Marcia started.

"That's what the nurse said, but that doesn't answer my question."

"They each have a room, but they're both are in a medically-induced coma at the moment so their bodies can heal. There was a lot wrong with them, Davy. We should have called the ambulance right away when you brought them in."

"What kind of things? What's wrong with them?"

"They wouldn't tell me because I'm not family," Marcia sighed.

Sarah then patted her father's hand. "Daddy?"

"Yes Sarah?"

"Who were those men you brought in from outside?" She asked, concerned.

"They're old friends of mine and Uncle Peter's," Davy sighed. "We were best friends, a long long time ago. They went away to go visit family, but they never came back home to us."

"Did you think they were dead, Daddy?" Sarah asked.

"We did, yes."

"Are those the guys from the plaque in that one room where you work?"

"Yes they are," Davy gave a small smile, taking a deep breath as he did so.

"Are they going to be okay, Daddy?" Sarah asked.

Before he answered, Davy took another breath. "I hope so, sweetie. I sure hope so."

"Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"What are we going to do for Christmas now?" Sarah asked.

Marcia butted in. "I think, sweetie, that we're going to spend some time here at the hospital with Daddy and Uncle Peter, because family is more important than presents."

"But Daddy and Uncle Peter got a present, why don't Hallie and I get one, too?" Sarah asked.

"We did?" Davy asked his little girl.

"Yeah, you and Uncle Peter got your friends for Christmas," Sarah said.

"Well, you know what you're getting for Christmas?" A voice from behind them said. They both turned to see Peter and Jan, Jan holding Peter by the hip. Peter smiled his clever smile at the little girl. "You and Hallie are getting two new uncles for Christmas."

"Really?" Sarah asked, her eyes glowing.

"Really," Peter smiled. He looked at the little girl first, then gave Davy an even bigger smile.

Davy returned the smile, saying, "He knows, Pete. I swear Mike knows."

"I know, I caught on, too," Peter said. Jan lead him into the room and sat him down in a chair. "That sly bas-" Marcia gave Peter a death glare before he could finish.

She then adjusted Sarah and stood. "I think I'm going to take the girls to get some breakfast."

"Hallie's sleeping in Peter's room if you wanna grab her. I'm sure she's starving," Jan said as Marcia and Sarah left. She turned her attention back to her husband. "Five more minutes, dear. I can't have the doctors catching you out of your bed."

"I know, I know, I had to come see him, though," Peter explained, returning his attention to Davy. "Do you think he knew the whole time?"

"I don't know, we were too busy making fools of ourselves for him to remember. Have you seen them?"

"No, we're not allowed in their rooms," Peter explained. "Not until we're discharged at least."

"When will that be?" Davy asked desperately.

"Hopefully tomorrow morning according to the doctors," Jan explained. "You two just have some deep bruises and are recovering from hypothermia. Mike and Micky might not be discharged for a while."

Davy ran a hand through his hair. "I hate this, Pete, I really do. It's Christmas, we shouldn't be worrying like this. We shouldn't even be here! We should be home, with our kids, having a happy Christmas just like every other damn family in America. Instead, we're locked up in a hospital worried sick about Mike and Micky, who we haven't seen in ten bloody years!"

"Davy, calm down," Peter said quickly. "Don't get yourself riled up. It's okay. We can still have a good Christmas. It was no accident that that tree fell on the cabin. It would have fallen on the cabin whether we were there or not."

"And it was no coincidence that we went there, either," Jan continued. "I feel like we were meant to go there, strictly because Mike and Micky were going to stumble upon it. You two were supposed to save them. They really would be dead if it wasn't for you two."

"Now instead of being in the dark, we'll really know that they're dead," Davy grumbled, lying back and breathing.

"They're not dead yet, Davy," Peter said. "They're still alive."

"From what I gathered from the nurse, they're just barely alive. They were just barely alive when we found them, and that tree did them no favors."

On shaky legs Peter stood, placing a hand on Davy's hand. "They're going to be fine, Davy. Calm down. We know how you get when you worry. You're just trying to express your worries in the form of anger. That's not right. Take deep breaths, calm down, and think rationally about this. They're in the hospital now. They are receiving actual help. They're going to be okay."

"But Peter," Davy said, tears now forming in his eyes. He looked up at the man, his heart sinking. "It's been ten years. Ten years of hell for them. Can they really survive that?"

"We can only pray and hope they do," Peter said. Jan then took her arm and placed it around his hip, guiding him out of the room. Davy was along again. Alone with this thoughts.

* * *

"Well Mr. Jones, you've surprised me," Dr. Alex Phillips said, "Your body has recovered just fine within the last ten hours, so I think it's safe to say we can discharge you."

"And Peter?" Davy asked, seeing Marcia walk in with some day clothes.

"Mr. Tork is already working on the papers," Dr. Phillips smiled, handing Davy his own discharge papers. "I'll need you to sign as directed, then you'll be free to go."

"What about Mike and Micky? How are they doing?" When Davy saw the look of concern on the doctor's face, he explained, "Robert Nesmith and George Dolenz, they were brought in with us. The two we were trying to save from the wreck we were in."

"Oh yes, friends of yours?" Dr. Phillips asked.

"Old, old, friends, yes," Davy explained. "They went missing ten years ago. I used to live with them, actually. Peter and I feel it is our responsibility to take care of them now that we found them. According to what they have told us, they've been homeless and hungry since they left us."

Dr. Phillips nodded, standing. "I see, yes. Well, once you're officially discharged, I'll let you and Mr. Tork check in on Mr. Nesmith and Mr. Dolenz. You're lucky I've been assigned their cases as well. However, I'm afraid to say they won't be able to leave today like you two are."

"We figured as much," Davy said, looking down and beginning to fill out the discharge papers. Suddenly, there was a rampant knocking on the door. Marcia opened it, revealing Peter, who looked panicked and excited all at once.

"Davy! They're awake! They're both awake and alive!" Peter exclaimed.

"Then what are you doing here?" Davy smirked. "I'm not discharged yet. Give me a minute to finish these papers and change. I'll be right down. Who will you be with?"

Peter finally exhaled, pondering the question. "Who do you wanna see first?"

"Who have you already seen?"

"Micky," Peter thought for a moment. "A nurse told me that Mike just woke up."

"How's Mick…" Davy tapped his head for emphasis.

"He's a bit loopy, but I think that's just the medications. I don't know if the amnesia is still there or not."

"Amnesia?" Dr. Phillips asked, suddenly concerned. He began to walk towards the door. "Then I think I've just solved your problem. Visit with Mr. Nesmith, both of you. I want to have a look at Mr. Dolenz for this amnesia you claim he has." Dr. Phillips then left the room, leaving Davy, Peter, and Marcia alone.

Davy quickly finished signing the discharge papers and traded it for his clothes from his wife. He changed in the bathroom, then came out, setting the hospital gown on his bed. He took the discharge papers back from his wife and they all followed Peter out of the room. Marcia declared that she was going to go out and wait with Sarah, Hallie, and Jan, while Peter and Davy met Mike.

The two walked over to Mike's room and quietly knocked on the door. A voice from the other side told them to come in. Peter carefully opened the door, his heart ready to rip out of his chest. It felt like his eyes looked everywhere except Mike's face when he entered. However, when their eyes did meet, he smiled. "Hey there," Peter said hopefully. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," Mike smiled at him. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?" Peter asked.

"Savin' Mick and I. We would be dead if it wasn't for you two."

Davy spoke up. "Do you remember us?"

"How could I forget?" They all couldn't help but smile at one another.

"So you knew it was us the whole time?" Davy asked again.

Mike laughed at that. "I didn't recognize you two at first with those beards, but only you two could ever make fools out of yourselves like you did back there. You two have nice little girls, though. They were really what hit the nail on the coffin. Their story cracked me up."

"What about Micky, though, did he know?" Peter asked, all of them suddenly sober at the name.

Mike sighed, regretting that Peter asked that question. "Naw, I'm afraid not. I'll admit, I had a bit of memory loss after the car crash myself, but I eventually came back around. I kept waiting for Micky to, but he never did. When I remembered he went by Micky instead of George, I tried to convince him that his name wasn't George, but I guess I caught him on a bad day. He wasn't having none of it. That's why I was surprised that he played along with the girls when they decided to call him Micky."

They all sat in silence for a moment, mourning Micky's loss. After the moment passed, Peter decided to speak to relax the tension. "Well, I'm glad you're okay now, Mike."

"Me too," Davy added. "We're grateful you're alive at all. We thought the two of you were dead for years."

"Did you mean it, what you said about the record company?" Mike asked.

"Of course we did," Davy smiled. "We hear all sorts of versions of 'Listen to the Band,' on the radio. Their first song with us is always one from the Mike Nesmith and Micky Dolenz collection."

Mike blushed, looking down at his hands. "Thanks guys."

"Mike," Peter said. He waited for Mike to look back up at him. "We're going to help you, we promise. We'll do whatever it takes to get you and Micky back upon your feet."

"Maybe we can even get the band back together," Davy suggested. "It's not like Peter and I don't own a recording studio or a record company."

It was then that Dr. Phillips knocked on the door and let himself in. "Hello," He said, quietly shutting it behind him. "So I have some news for you about Mr. Dolenz."

"What is it?" Davy asked hopefully.

"You said he had amnesia when you met him last night?" Dr. Phillips asked, hoping to get his facts right.

"He has had amnesia for the past ten years, Doc," Mike answered for them. "When I finally got my head sorted out I _tried_ to get him to remember, I really did, but to no avail."

"Well," Dr. Phillips said, fixing his glasses. "I'm going to take a lucky guess and say that this little accident the four of you got into did him more good than bad."

"You mean he remembers us?!" Peter asked excitedly.

"Now I'm not saying that, I'm just saying he does remember a little bit of stuff from before your car accident, like I was told earlier. He did tell me about the accident when I asked, and he told me a lot about the last ten years, Mr. Nesmith. He did also mention vague memories of a beach house, and that sometimes there will be songs that ring through his head, but he can't tell where from. He remembers a lot from his childhood, too. So I'd say, if you two walked in there right now, he might just remember you, too."

Davy and Peter turned to Mike, all three of them beaming. Mike motioned for them to go. Davy and Peter turned excitedly, but were stopped by Dr. Phillips. "Now I said might, not that he will. You need to give him time. If you annoy the hell out of him like I heard your wives tellin' before, I'm sure he'll come to eventually."

"Yes sir," Davy said, his smile not fading. They both left the room, leaving Dr. Phillips to tend to Mike.

* * *

Nervously Peter knocked on the door of Micky's room, feeling more giddy and scared than he was when they entered Mike's room. They heard a voice from the other side say they could come in, but Peter didn't automatically turn the knob. He waited a second, then slowly turned it, controlling the door's motion with all his might.

"Hey man," Peter said as they entered. "Remember us?"

Micky's eyes widen. "You two?"

"Yeah, us," Davy said. "Mike told us you had a bit of amnesia."

"Mike told you that, huh?" Micky pondered, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"Yeah, we wanted to see if we could help with it at all," Peter pushed. This was not the outcome they expected.

"Well, I remember that you two are absolutely crazy," Micky commented, not caring to give Davy and Peter the information they wanted.

"Well, even _we_ know that," Davy said. "What _else_ do you know about us?"

"Well your daughters said you two saved Mike and I from the cold, I remember that."

Davy and Peter could feel their hearts dropping to the pits of their stomachs. He still couldn't remember them for who they really were. "Anything else? Like do you remember our names?"

Micky shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. "Can't say I do. Doc says that is normal, though."

"Well, Mick, um, my name is Davy," Davy said, hoping Micky would open his eyes and stop being an asshole.

"I'm Peter," Peter tried, thinking the same thing Davy was.

"We used to be in a band called the Monkees," Davy added. "We even lived together."

Micky finally opened one eye and looked at them both suspiciously. He took a deep breath and closed his eye again. "Sorry, can't say I remember that."

"At least Mike remembers us," Peter said under his breath, defeated. "Come on Davy, let's go. Maybe we'll have better luck next time." They both turned to head for the door.

"Next time?" Micky suddenly asked. "What do you mean, 'next time?'"

"The next time we visit you," Davy explained. "We're not going to give up. You will remember us eventually. I swear to it."

"Besides," Peter added. "The girls want to make sure you're okay, too. Now that you don't smell like-" Davy elbowed Peter in the side to interrupted him, silencing the taller man and earning himself an evil glare as well.

"We'll just leave you be, for now," Davy said cooly, opening the door. "Sweet dreams, Mick."

"Thanks," Micky said, closing his eyes again and lying down. Peter and Davy closed the door, upset.


	3. Part 3- January 19th, 1977

**Part 3 ~ January 19th, 1977**

Weeks past. Both Mike and Micky got better, but Micky's memory of the Monkees and their music never floated to the surface. When the little ones would visit Micky and Mike in the hospital, there would be moments, moments of sure hope for Davy and Peter, moments where they just wanted to jump in and help yank that memory back. However, they didn't.

"Then, then, then, then Uncle Davy said, 'One more remark like that and I'll hit you with me purse!'" Hallie mimicked Davy's British accent, her and Sarah rolling over in laughter. Micky and the other adults did, too.

Micky looked up at Davy and Peter as he laughed, as if congratulating them on having two hilarious girls. However, for a moment, the two men thought they saw Micky there, in his eyes. The Micky they knew. The Micky that knew them. Both men adjusted their seating in their chairs, but their wives, who sat on either side of them, placed a hand on their shoulders, preventing them from doing anything humiliating.

"You have to let him figure it out on his own," They would say every time they tried.

"Right, right, right, okay, so after that," Sarah began after she collected herself. "Daddy was lying on the bed still dressed as girl-"

"Why was he dressed like a girl still?" Micky asked, laughing.

"Because what if the crazy contest host came back?!" Hallie gasped. "Their plan would be ruined!"

"Anyway," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. "Daddy was lying on his bed, dressed as a girl, when Uncle Peter, Mike, and Micky came in and said they were going out for dinner. Daddy obviously didn't want to go out for dinner if he had to dress like a girl, so he said, "If I have to go out dressed like a girl, I'd rather stay home!" So Mike Micky, and Uncle Peter offered to bring him home a tuna fish sandwich."

"However! Little did they know, the girls from Westminster Abbey were doing the same thing! The girl who dressed like a guy said, "If I have to dress like a boy, I won't go!" Hallie added.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, interrupting the girls' story. Dr. Phillips then entered, smiling at the group. "Good afternoon fellas. Mr. Jones, Mr. Tork, may I speak with you in the hall?"

"Yeah, of course," They both said out of sync. They stood and left the room, leaving the girls to continue telling their story, one of the strategies they hoped would jog Micky's memory. "What's up, Doc?" Davy asked when the door shut.

"So, I'm thinking that Mr. Nesmith and Mr. Dolenz will be able to be discharged at the end of the day tomorrow," Dr. Phillips said, looking over the clipboard he held. "Both of them have been recovering spectacularly. They both have finally gained a healthy amount of weight, Mr. Nesmith's immune system is back where it should be, and their internal injuries are nearly completely healed. The only thing that hasn't is-"

"Micky's memory," Peter said immediately. He frowned, looking at his feet. "Doc, we're trying, we really are-"

"And you cannot rush these things, Mr. Tork. Mr. Dolenz will remember on his own time. If not, he will have these new memories to cherish."

"But he's not the Micky we know and love with these new memories," Davy blurted out, restraining his tears from showing. "Mike even confessed to that, and he's had to deal with ten years of that shit."

"Davy," Peter said quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. At least this is the only problem we have left."

"No it's not! Where are they going to live? How are they going to get around? How are they going to eat?"

"Davy, we're not their parents," Peter said sternly.

"Son," Dr. Phillips intervened. "I know this feels like a heavy burden on your shoulders, but it's not. Mr. Dolenz and Mr. Nesmith are in their early 30s, they know how to do adult things. Mr. Tork is right, your only problem is to help Mr. Dolenz regain his memories. Mr. Dolenz might want to stay with Mr. Nesmith for a while, since from what I gathered they were each other's safety nets these last few ye-"

"Ten years," Davy grumbled.

"Yes, ten years. My point is, after meeting the four of you, I know that Micky will be in good hands if he lives with Mr. Nesmith. However, that's completely up to him and Mr. Nesmith to decide. Like Mr. Tork said, you're not their parents."

Suddenly they heard a voice from behind. "If you three are going to talk 'bout us like we're children, then at least talk about us like that to our faces, please and thanks." They turned and saw Mike hanging on the door frame, giving each man a death glare. "We'd appreciate that, thanks."

"Sorry Mike," Peter said quickly.

"By the way," Mike said, pointing a finger at Davy, "Mom, since you're so worried, I'll have you know I've been thinkin' on that. The whole, 'where we're gonna live,' and that. The doc here's been helpin' me out."

Dr. Phillips motioned for Davy and Peter to go inside Mike's room. They all filed inside, Mike getting back into bed. "The doc here has been doin' some investigatin' for me. The pad is still vacant, after all these years. The new landlord, Mrs. DeFazio, has offered to rent back it to Mick n' I. We're hopin' that seeing the pad again will dig up some ol' memories and finally he'll remember the two of you."

"You're going to live at the pad?" Davy asked in disbelief.

"Why not?" Mike asked with a smile. "It will help out Micky, I hope, and it will bring some normality back into our lives."

"I think it's a great idea," Peter said hopefully. "After you two get settled back in, then we can start looking at getting you two the royalties you deserve for writing the songs we've published. That should give you guys a steady paycheck."

"And we can even hire them," Davy added, liking the idea more and more.

Mike couldn't help but smile at that. His friends, his old friends, they have had his back for so many years and none of them knew it. He knew he was going to be okay. He was going to be okay because he had Davy and Peter's support and love to keep him afloat.

"Thanks guys," Mike said. He looked to Dr. Phillips. "When will we be able to leave?"

"Tomorrow," Dr. Phillips said, looking down at his paperwork.

"Whatever you need us to do, we'll do it," Davy said quickly.

"Now didn't we just go over this? You're not our parents," Mike said sternly, yet jokingly. "We can handle things on our own."

"Anything to help Micky, he means," Peter said cooly. "Setting up the pad, helping you guys move in, supplying you with money."

At the mention of money, Mike rolled his eyes. "That would be helpful…"

There was a knock at the door. Dr. Phillips told them to enter. The door opened to reveal little Hallie Tork. She walked up to her father and tugged on his shirt. "Daddy?"

Peter scooped her up and held her on his hip. "What is it, dear?"

"Well, you and Uncle Davy have been talkin' about helping Uncle Micky with his memories. Well, Sarah and I remembered there was this one video that you showed us a little while ago to show us what they looked like. Could… could you show that to Uncle Micky and get his memory back."

Davy scrunched up his nose. "What video?"

Peter thought on it for a moment. Suddenly his face lit up. "Our camcorder! We got it right before Mike and Micky left for Texas, remember? We actually videotaped them leaving home. Oh Hallie, you're so smart! I would have never thought of that!"

"Video?" Mike asked. "I don't remember any camcorder."

"Didn't we buy it to record ourselves for auditions?" Davy asked.

"I don't even remember why we bought it," Peter admitted. "But I think it just saved Micky!" He squeezed his daughter. "You're brilliant Hallie, absolutely brilliant."

"You know, if we still got that television in the pad, we could hook up that camcorder to it and play it for Micky in the pad," Mike suggested.

Both Davy and Peter smiled. "Guys," Davy said. "I think we have some work to do."


	4. Part 4- January 20th, 1977

**Part 4 ~ January 20th, 1977**

"Boy, it sure was nice of the Torks and Jones' to help us get back on our feet," Micky mused as he and Mike turned onto Beachwood Drive for the first time in ten years.

"Yeah," Mike simply said. He was in wonder at his surroundings. Nostalgia overtook him, choking him up a bit. However he tried his best to hide this from Micky. Micky looked on at the neighborhood with awe and anticipation. It was obvious that he had never seen this before.

"I still can't believed they paid our first month's rent so we can look for jobs all while having a place to live," Micky said, taking on the hint that this was a one-way conversation. Mike pulled into the garage at 1334 Beachwood Drive, almost expecting Micky to snap back with the look of the beach house. When no such revelation occurred, he shut off the engine of Davy's little car. He handed the ring of keys to Micky.

"The red key opens the front door. Why don't you head on in and get a feel for the place and I'll start bringing stuff in from the back," Mike then quickly got out before Micky could argue.

Micky hopped out of the car and walked up to the door. He stuck the red key in the lock and unlocked the door. He then casually pushed the door open, revealing the old Monkees Pad, as it was ten years ago. Micky stood in awe at the majesty and furbishments. There were many odd things about the room, of course, but he found it all surprisingly comforting. There was suddenly a nagging feeling in his head. Something he couldn't shake. "Hey Mike, did the landlord say this place was going to be furnished when we got here?" He received no answer. He walked a little ways into the pad, roaming around to get a good look at everything. When he was analyzing the kitchen, he heard a second of static before voices filled the house.

" _Hey Mick, over here,"_ Micky jumped out of his skin.

"Mike?" He asked.

" _Hi Mike,"_ Micky heard himself say. " _What are you doing?"_ Micky spun to find the television had turned on by itself. There he was, on the screen, playing with a set of drums. Drums? Why was he playing with drums? Analyzing the setting in the video, they apparently were in this house. The house Micky found himself in now.

" _Recording you,"_ Mike's voice said.

" _Oh yeah, why?"_

" _I want to see if it's working,"_ Mike had answered.

" _Well then don't record him, his face will break it,"_ A new voice said. Micky recognized the voice. The nagging feeling grew stronger.

"Davy?" Micky asked as he watched the video turn to a strapping young man in swim trunks with a towel. "Mike! Mike!" Micky said, now becoming unsure of what was going on. Mike did not answer him.

" _Yeah, then who should I record?"_

" _Me,"_ Davy beamed at the camera.

" _Why would he record you, shortie?"_ Micky witnessed the interaction between a younger version of himself and Davy.

" _I'm the most photogenic,"_ The young Davy Jones bragged. That's when Micky watched something fly and hit Davy's chest, and Davy reacting in the most absurd and dramatic way.

" _Nice shot Peter!"_ He heard himself cheer. The video turned to a young Peter Tork, distraught at the outcome.

"Peter?!" Micky asked himself. What was going on?

" _I'm sorry Davy, I didn't mean to!"_ Peter's voice echoed in his head. Micky stepped away from the video, uncomfortable and distraught himself.

"Mike? Mike!" Micky yelled, scrambling towards the front door. He ran out of it, finding that all the stuff was still in the car, but Mike was not there. He backed into the house, calling out for the man. "Mike? Mike! Please Mike, there are some freaking things goin' on here. I think we should live somewhere-"

" _The local rock group down the street is trying hard to learn their song,"_ Micky heard a voice sing. He stumbled to a halt. He recognized the song. No, better. He _knew_ that song. He turned back towards the television to see a young version of himself, Mike Nesmith, Davy Jones, and Peter Tork performing the song. That's what did it. Micky could feel his heart break into a million pieces. Davy. Peter. His friends, his _brothers._ He felt a tear freely roll down his cheek.

"Micky?" Mike finally asked. Micky turned around to see Mike, Davy, and Peter all on the bandstand, looks of concern on their faces.

Micky answered by shaking his head a first, but then running up to the bandstand and engulfing all three men in a hug. The men embraced the hug as Micky cried out, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! It was all my fault! How could I have been so stupid?"

"What are you talking about?" Peter asked.

"The accident, it was all my fault! I should have been more careful! It was dark and I didn't see the bear till I was almost on him, so I swerved out of the way before I hit it. We drove into a valley and hit a tree. God, I'm so sorry! I should have been more careful!"

"You remember the accident?" Mike asked.

Micky shook his head into their shoulders. "I can't believe I was so stupid!"

"Mick, it's okay," Mike said. "You're safe now. We all are," Mike smiled at Davy and Peter.

"I'm so sorry! It was because of my stupid actions that we never came home, Mike. It's my fault that I lost my memory and never _wanted_ to come home!"

"Micky, it's okay now," Mike almost laughed, despite Micky's apparent misery.

"I'm sorry Davy, I'm sorry Peter! We should have come home, we should have come home!"

"What?" Davy asked. The two were thrown off by this.

"I'm sorry I forgot about you two. I'm sorry I forgot about us, and the band! We should have come home!"

Davy couldn't help but laugh. "Micky, it's not your fault. You were in a car accident. Those things tend to happen when you hit your head too hard."

"But ten years, Davy! Ten years I had no idea you even existed! Ten years I had no idea about the Monkees, no idea about Peter, no idea that I could actually sing!" Micky cried more, but Mike, Peter, and Davy all kept him upright in their group hug. Peter and Davy couldn't help but smile. He remembered.

"So this means you know who we are now?" Peter almost teased.

Micky wailed again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"I'll take that as a yes," Davy laughed, despite Micky's misery.

" _Don't tell Mike, please,"_ they all suddenly heard Davy say. Micky sniffed up his snot as they all turned back towards the television.

" _I won't tell Mike. Gods, Davy, you know how long he's been planning this trip?"_ They watched the young Micky Dolenz say.

" _A while…"_ They heard Davy reply.

" _Yeah, besides, you know how to take care of someone who is sick… Right?"_

"' _Course I do."_

" _Then there is nothing to worry about,"_ The young Micky said.

"Well, that was a lie," Peter commented absently. Davy elbowed him playfully and Peter delivered an equally playful cry of pain.

They continued to watch as they saw the two young Monkees get into their old, beloved MonkeeMobile, driving away, never to be seen again in this life. The video fizzled to a stop, turning black. They all were teary-eyed. That was the last time any of them had been properly together, till now. They all looked at one another, watching the years pass on their faces in a single moment.

Micky quickly yanked them all into another group hug. "I'm so glad to be home," He muttered to himself more than them.

"Me too, Shotgun, me too," Mike said just as quietly. They were together once again. They were all finally home.

 ** _The End_**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thanks Lisa Boon for letting me publish this! Also, thank YOU the reader for reading this. :) Feel free to check out the rest of Lisa Boon's work, as well as mine, AS WELL AS our joint account, Jean Blessing. Thank you for the support!**

 **Peace & Love,**

 **TimeSpace64**


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